I day dream of things that I do not tell you. Reading stories of such things in the middle of the night, letting my mind run as wild as my fingers between my legs.

I dream of the sound of your voice in my ear, low and husky with need.

“Take it. Be my good girl and take it.”

The sound of our mingling moans dancing through the house.

“I can’t stop now.” You groan, gripping my hip and my hair, pulling yourself deeper into me. “I’m going to fill you up, as deep as I can.”

You grunt each word, punctuating every thrust with your syllables.

I feel you swell, your breathing becoming more and more ragged. My body betraying me, flooding and quivering at the things you say.

“Everyone will know your mine when I am done.” Grasping my face, you stare into my soul. I feel it building, like a fire slowly sparking.

“You are mine, and I am going to use you. I want to flood your little pussy.”

“No, no, please, not now.” I cry out for your mercy, but it only serves to fuel your assault on me. “Please! I’m not safe!”

You laugh, “I am going to fill you, over and over until you bear the fruits of my loins inside you.”

You are getting close, I can tell, your thrusts, they come quicker and deeper, that need, driving you to your edge.

“In a few months, everyone will know exactly who you belong to. You will carry my mark forever.”

You drop your head and roar into your orgasm. With the first wave I feel my own body betrays me and I spiral over the edge into my own abyss of pleasure.

No longer begging you to stop, no, now I beg you for more. I beg to carry your mark.

Only to wake and realize it is just a dream.